


Blackouts and Ice Baths

by enefasparable



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry and Iris have steamy sex in an ice-bath what more could you NEED?, Bath Sex, Edgeplay, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Simultaneous Orgasm, Smut, Vaginal Sex, married westallen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 17:57:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19706536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enefasparable/pseuds/enefasparable
Summary: Written for the "Westallen in the Summer" fic prompt #5: "Creative ways of dealing with a heat wave." When a heatwave malfunctions Central City's power grid, Barry and Iris are left alone in the midst of a blackout—and facing dark desires. What happens when the fastest man alive and Central City's finest report meet amid an ice-bath during a blackout? A slow, sensual unravelling of two lovers, that's what :).





	Blackouts and Ice Baths

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I've been gone from the fanfic scene for a hot minute. This one's steamy, folks, and very much explicit porn without plot at the end. Enjoy! And if you feel so inclined, kudos and review <3.

Central City hadn’t been through a heat wave _this_ intense in almost four decades. Iris knew as much because that’s all CCPN was reporting; that it was hot enough to fry eggs on a curb. They had Linda Park making this exact dish outside the Central City Hurricanes’s hockey stadium for a televised fluff news piece. Iris had been lounging on one of the pillowy couches peppering her loft when Linda’s segment came up.

“Well it’s not just Star City that’s feeling the heat. Central City’s practically melting beneath record temperatures this week,” Linda reported. Sunlight hit her directly as she bent over a curbside road. The camera cut to two perfectly fried eggs cooking beneath them. “But one thing you won’t believe? You just might save on gas bills this weekend, thanks to the heat wave…”

Grabbing her phone, Iris pulled up her messages app, found her latest text-thread with Linda, and began typing:

 _Girl, you’ll never guess who I’m watching do a fluff piece when she’s_ supposed _to be reporting on sports news…_

She paused, lifting her phone to snap a photo of Linda’s segment—before the television went dark. Its red indicator light faded, along with the clock on her microwave and the loft’s living room lighting, bathing the apartment in gloomy tones.

“Oh no.” 

Iris hopped up at the same time that Barry sped downstairs.

“Was that the power?” He asked. “Crap, I think—”

“The heatwave,” Iris whispered. “It knocked the power grid out.”

Barry skimmed her hand. Pulling, she led him toward the patio; together, they watched the lights from Central City’s skyscrapers and apartment complexes go out one-by-one, a systematic disappearance of electricity across the entire city. 

“Bar,” she breathed. “This is bad.”

His sidelong glance met hers worriedly. “Yeah. It is.”

* * *

Turns out, the Flash _couldn’t_ stop a spontaneous blackout. No matter how fast he raced, how many power plants he infiltrated, how many levers he tried to pull, or how many augmented code snippets Cisco sent him to upload into Central City’s energy processors, nothing brought the power back. Lights would flicker softly, pearlescent bulbs flaring to life in darkened windows, blazing the city back to life for brief seconds...before flickering wildly, spasming into obsidian nothingness once more.

Even Killer Frost couldn’t cool system processors well enough—mostly because Cisco’s vibing abilities had been diminished, his glasses overheating every time he tried to port them somewhere. Iris watched the gang confer from the sweatiness of Star Labs, whose backup generators had gone out hours ago.

“Well I’m fresh outta ideas.” Cisco sighed, tossing his glasses aside after the latest power-plant run. They smoked idly in the background. “Anyone?”

Barry shrugged, but Killer Frost rolled her eyes. “Maybe for once, you morons just need to accept that our powers won’t get us out of this,” she huffed. 

“Our powers _always_ get us out of things,” Cisco said. “Come on. There has to be something we missed.”

“Guys,” Iris interrupted, though her voice sounded far away, dimmed behind a strange, low ringing in her ears. The heat had been getting to her; had seeped beneath her blouse, fogged her mind, and dried her throat. “Frost’s right.” She glanced at the blonde vigilante, and found Killer Frost regarding her coolly. “We might to have to wait this one out.”

“Uh uh.” Cisco squinted at her. “Do you _know_ how hot it was today?”

“106 **°** ,” said Barry, sighing. “And that’s not even the ‘feels like’ temperature.”

“Exactly!” Cisco threw up his hands. “Which means the city’s been baking under that heat all day, and _that_ means—”

“Ramon,” Frost interrupted.

The two devolved into friendly squabbling, but all Iris could do was slump tiredly behind the comms console. She wiped away rivulets of sweat stinging her eyes before shifting uncomfortably in her soaked blouse. Distantly, her mind registered Barry zipping toward her.

“You okay, Iris?”

She nodded, but the motion only made her feel lightheaded. “I think so. I’m just hot, like everyone else.”

Barry got an oddly determined look on his face, then his gaze turned languid. “Come on. I’ve got an idea.”

Iris rose, barely able to steady herself before Barry took her gently into his arms. The tail end of Cisco and Caitlin’s conversation faded as the world blurred around his super-speed.

“Bar,” she breathed.

He’d brought them back to the loft, up its stairs, and into the dark interior of their bathroom. A sliver of moonlight spilled through its sole window, painting their clawfoot bathtub in silvery tones. Kneeling, Barry turned a handle on its faucet so that water began to pour.

“Uh, what’s going on Bar?”

He glanced at her through long lashes, a smirk curving his lips. “Wait here.”

She barely had a moment to respond before sparks sizzled the air. Barry was gone all of seven seconds before spidery lightning reflected off the tub’s porcelain sides. He’d returned, arms laden with three ice-bags.

“I think you need to cool off,” Barry said. “You’re not looking too good, West-Allen.”

His voice had taken on a brassy, heated tenor. A kind of molten resonance that set her skin ablaze worse than any heatwave ever could. Iris felt him strip her with his gaze as he set the bags down, untied their packaging, and began to dump oblong ice cubes into the pooling water.

“Is that right?” she asked.

Barry licked his lips. “Yeah. If that’s alright with you?”

His raised eyebrow, and the ensuing silence, suggested he was questioning whether _this_ was alright. Whether submerging her supple flesh into a cold bath, beneath his wanting gaze, was permissible.

He was begging for her consent.

“I think you’re right, CSI Allen,” Iris said, knowing what the use of his title did to him.

Shakily, Barry laughed. “Good.” Then, with all the casualness of a businessman about to deliver a deal-sealing pitch, he shifted. Stood, to take her in fully. “Strip.”

As the tub filled, Iris began to undress, first with a light touch to the damp blouse she was wearing. Buttons fluttered open at her gentle prodding, revealing a dark, lacy bra.

“You have no idea what you’re getting into, Barry Allen.” She shrugged out of the oppressive silken material, though it clung to her moistened skin, sticking as she peeled it from her arms. 

“Oh,” Barry replied, watching her movements. “I think _you’re_ the one who’s in over their head, Iris.”

Iris took that as the perfect signal to begin shrugging out of her skirt, _slowly_. Her zipper sliding loose sounded obscene in the quiet—in the night-soft sounds of Central City’s power outage. Fire engines blarred quietly on the city’s fringes, as did cars traversing the gridlocked motorways, and voices wafting up from the sidewalk. Iris licked her lips, shimmying her hips out of the skirt until it pooled uselessly around her ankles. The hunger in Barry’s stare lit something within her; turned the motion of her leg movements into warm strokes that moistened her core. 

Barry added the last package of ice, then flicked his gaze up at her teasingly. “Hope I got the temperature right.”

Approaching, bare save for the soft undergarments still clinging to her body, Iris extended her fingers deliciously into the tub’s rising waters. “It’s perfect.”

Her underwear was much easier to shimmy out of, and Barry sped around to undo the clasp on her bra, his fingers slowly sliding the straps of her bra down until it, too, fell away. In seconds, Iris was bare before him, bathed in moonlight, shuddering quietly against the feel of his fingers ghosting beneath her breasts. Barry placed one gentle kiss against the back of her neck, then bit the skin there, drawing a cry from her.

“Keep playing with me, _Bartholomew_ ,” Iris laughed. “I’ll never make it to the bath, at this rate.”

“Welk, we wouldn’t want that.” Barry pulled away, face flushed, hands still outstretched, as if wanting to touch her again. “Come on.”

He led her to the rim of the tub, his fingers butterfly-wing-light. Iris lifted her left leg, then plunged it into the ice-cold water, her breath stealing away as the cold traveled her skin. Barry leaned in to kiss the moan from her lips.

“Holy shit,” she laughed. His arms supported her weight. “It’s a lot colder than I realized.”

Barry smirked. “So, I guess I’m going to have to warm it up a little?”

“Yeah,” Iris return-smirked. “If you can.”

She held onto him as she planted her other leg inside. Another moan left her lips, the warm cry escaping as she sunk fully into the tub’s icy depths. Barry didn’t get in just yet; instead, he kneeled beside her, still fully clothed, sweat staining his brow, pupils dilated, mouth agape as he took in the swell of her swollen nipples floating gorgeously above the water.

“Iris,” he hissed, both a plea and a prayer. 

She smiled, settling her back against the tub. “Remember Bar, you started this.”

Oh, and how he seemed to know. She could tell from the pained look upon his brow that he was growing hard; that was palming himself to the way her dark skin glistened around the ice cubes surrounding her. Iris stilled her chattering teeth, extending a drenched hand to his warm cheek. “Come on in babe.” She winked. “Water’s fine.”

Iris would’ve watched him disrobe, if that were possible—he did it all in a blink, blurred lightning sketching fissures across the room until he stilled, clothing suddenly shed. She traced the firm line of his abdomen downward, counting pectorals and ab muscles until she reached the tapered V leading toward his swollen cock.

“Someone’s happy to see me, heatwave or not,” Iris smirked.

Barry laughed. “That’s a given, regardless of the time, place, or weather.”

She felt the air crackle around her again as Barry raced the short distance— _raced_ it, like he couldn’t help but get to her as quickly as possible—before lowering one lightly vibrating leg into the waiting tub. His body temperature must’ve been much higher than hers; steam wafted around them both as he slipped in behind her. Scooching up, Iris made space for him to sink in, relishing the way his warmth contrasted with the ice-bath. 

“You know, I’ve always kinda dreamed of this,” he said.

“You’ve dreamed of us taking an ice-bath in the middle of a blackout?”

Cool hands skimmed Iris’s sides, melting her laughter into languid sighing.

“Sorta,” Barry laughed. “Minus the heat. And the ice-bath part.” She felt him shrug behind her. “It’s just…I’ve just wanted us to be alone like this for months now.”

Silence engulfed them. This _was_ the first time they’d been alone like this in…well, Iris couldn’t even remember. Every week, they were busy fighting baddies who wanted to harm them. Funny that it took a blackout for Central City to quiet; to calm. Iris realized that she, too, had been waiting for a moment like this.

“Bar,” she breathed. Barry’d begun massaging her shoulders; trailing ice-cold fingertips along the skin there, then down to knead firmly against the swell of her breasts. Another moan was building within her. “We—… _ah_ ,” Iris hitched, body grinding against his touch. Barry groaned in response. “We have no idea how long the power’s going to be out.”

“Don’t care,” he whispered, breath tickling her ear. 

His fingers drifted, grazing her abdomen, until ghosting lightly atop her cunt. She mewled as those fingers began to vibrate; as they began to slip between the wet folds of her pussy, pressing to surround around the bundle of nerves that consistently brought her to the brink. Ice water leaked alongside his ministrations, making her quake.

“God, I want you.” Barry hissed this while pressing kisses along her neck. “Iris, open your legs for me.”

Iris licked her lips, capturing the bottom one between her teeth as Barry began to suck a tender spot beneath her ear, but kept her legs still. Pressing against him, she found his rigid cock jutting up against her backside.

“No.”

She loved being obstinate; loved refusing him in the heat of the moment, increasing his anticipation and desire for her. She felt his vibrating fingers slow so that the delicious pressure against her clit faded to nothingness. Iris moaned, bucking forward as the pressure left her empty.

“I said, open your legs.” Barry’s voice was warm. Soft. Desperate, beneath soft groans. Gently, he flicked his tongue at the sensitive spot on her neck; brought his cunt-soaked fingers up to knead one pert nipple between his fingers. 

Iris keened, a feather-soft sound that left her pushing against Barry’s cock, sloshing the icy bath water. Barry hissed, his ministrations skipping a beat.

“Say please,” Iris whispered. 

Barry huffed lightly, silent for but a moment. Then, softly, return-disobediently: “No.”

She turned, brown eyes finding his dark pupils. His mouth was agape, drinking in the musk of their bodies pressed close. She pushed away as he tried to capture her lips with a kiss; felt him grasp for her through the icy wetness.

They’d taken to this of late—teasing one another. D _ominating_ one another. Making demands of one another, trying to get the other to acquiesce. Exchanging the quiet, warm lovemaking that’d been a hallmark of their early intimacy for something darker; something roughshod and wanting. Iris bit her lips hard, forcing numbness through them as Barry watched her watching him from their separate zones across the tub.

“Iris,” Barry said, hungrily.

A bit of desire she could twist for her own ends.

“Bar.” Iris stood then; felt ice clinging to her abdomen before falling listlessly to the water’s surface. She dripped beautifully in the humidity, eyeing him like a predator sighting prey. “First you give me what I want. Then, I do as you say.”

 _If_ , her tone suggested, _you’re a good boy._

Barry’s jaw twitched as he licked his lips. Ice cubes melted around his advancing gait.

“Okay.” Barry was beneath her now, looking up adoringly. “Command me.”

It was a challenge. A dare. A suggestion to make him perform...or see her power stripped. She rose to the occasion.

“Touch me here,” Iris commanded.

Lifting her leg, Iris balanced it on the tub’s siding. She used two icy fingers to spread her labia, sighing lightly against the contrast of her warm cunt being prodded open by her own cold fingers. Her clit was barred to the air now; was facing Barry’s gaping mouth.

“Do it,” Iris commanded, looking down on him. “Before I—”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. Not before Barry’s hands snaked up her backside. One grasped her left buttock, smacking lightly; the other replaced her fingers. Somehow his fingers felt even colder around her labia, which made Iris buck. Made her scream, as his tongue flattened against her delicate clit.

“Fuck,” Iris moaned, canting into him. Barry steadied her, holding firmly with one hand while spreading her labia widely with the other. “Oh fuck, Barry—”

God, she was _so_ needy when he ate her like this. His pupils shrunk to pinpricks as he began to lightly lap at her, watching the whole time, as if begging her to unravel with a gaze. He began by flattening his tongue against the sides of her vagina, licking the delicate, smooth expanse of her until reaching her apex—until the ridge of her clit met the tip of his tongue. Then, he lapped it softly; pulled away after every taste, so that she had to thread her wet fingers through his dark hair. So that she had to push herself toward him again, making his fingers slip against her.

“Be still,” he cautioned huskily. His gaze on her was molten, as he spread her labia again. God, she wouldn’t last long like this. “Until I make you come.”

 _And then you can fall_ , his tone suggested. Iris took a steadying breath to keep her knees from buckling. 

When he went back to her clit—when he scraped his teeth along the edges of her labia, replacing the acrid sting of it with delicate sucking, then snaked two vibrating fingers up to fit along each side of her clit, she began to shake in earnest.

“Oh fuck, Barry.”

She felt other vibrations against her core—soft words she couldn’t distinguish from him. Phrases that sounded like _fuck_ , and _yes, Iris_. _Come for me_. Maybe she was making it up. Maybe she was losing herself as she rocked against his vibrating fingers, whose deliciously perfect pressure were close bringing her close. But how could she care? How could she even think with him lapping at her so warmly; between him hooking one of her legs over his shoulder to lap hungrily at her aching core?

She couldn’t. And she certainly couldn’t think when he stopped, pushing away to seat her gently on the tub’s edge—which was blessedly against a wall—so that Iris could sit and lean back while watching him between her legs.

“You taste so good,” Barry whispered against her. She saw his hand disappearing and reappearing beneath the water’s surface as he touched himself, bucking into his own hands now that he had one hand free to work with. “ _Fuck_ , Iris.”

She wasn’t making _that_ up. Now seemed like as good a time as any to obey him. Spreading her legs wide so that each ankle was over each side of their narrow tub, she watched Barry dive back in eagerly. Felt his tongue pushing through her folds, then _vibrate_ against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Iris reached one hand to tug at her nipples; to tease them as she began to undulate, fucking his tongue, his face, moaning desperately, chasing the lightning-thunder release that’d been building in her core, as Barry moaned deliciously around her clit—

Until he stopped.

Iris cried. _Literally_ cried out as he withdrew.

“I need to fuck you.” Barry stood, dripping and steaming ice water across his torso.

Licking her lips, Iris stood too, so short compared to him, and pressed her hand against the hard length throbbing between his hands.

“Not yet,” she breathed hungrily. 

They were both _so close_. And Iris knew that was the best time to delay them. Lightly moaning, Iris stepped out of the tub, ignoring Barry’s desire-ridden groan to leave the room. She dripped water into what now felt like chilly air, wandering from the bathroom, through their bedroom, and downstairs. Barry was hot on her heels, following until she opened the patio doors.

Iris glanced at him over-shoulder, finding Barry’s pained gaze behind her, taking in the curve of her ass, the gait of her hips.

“You want to fuck me? Do it here.”

This was taking things to a whole ‘nother level.

She wandered out onto the patio; onto their balcony, which—thankfully since they were on the top floor—overlooked Central City’s expanse, and _not_ a set of close-by apartment buildings where people could’ve seen them clearly. Still, they _were_ visible out here like this. And Iris wandered sensuously, knowing what she was asking of him, before draping herself across their patio couch.

“What’s the matter, Flash?” she asked. “Scared?”

For a long, tense moment, Barry just watched her. Gazed at her from the doorway of their apartment’s sliding door, palming himself, perhaps daring himself to meet her challenge. Iris bit her lip again. Tired of waiting for him, she began to touch her breasts again; to sweep wet hair from her shoulders, then bring two fingers to her mouth, suck on them softly, then trail them down her wet abdomen.

“You’re going to make me fuck myself out here? All alone?” Iris mewled, pressing into her own touch, as her fingers made their way to the fine hairs atop her cunt. Then, ever-softly, ever-slowly, she dipped them further below until hitting the soft ridges of her vagina. She bucked then, hips pistoning into her own fingers, as Barry watched. “Bar,” she moaned.

Barry watched her for a moment longer—only a moment—before racing to lessen the distance between them. Before crackling the air into a sizzle, joining her on the lounge-chaise, and capturing her lips in his.

Iris moaned into his kiss. Felt herself ground against the dripping erection he pressed against her core. Together, they bucked; groans lost in the haze of lust-ridden want that’d overtaken them.

“Fuck me,” Iris breathed. 

She opened her legs as Barry positioned himself between them, skin bathed in moonlight, and felt him press his hard length against her core. Cupping him, her hands buyoed around his, she guided him into her wetness; pushed until his cock slipped just past her folds, until it was deep inside her, drawing heady moans from them both.

Iris felt him pull out again. Felt him slam in once more, brushing a tender set of nerves against her walls. She didn’t know if it was the ever-mythical g-spot. Didn’t know if he was hitting some other place, as he drew in and out of her with long, expert strokes. She just rose to meet his every thrust; felt him pick up his rhythm, sliding in and out, again and again, so that her core ached with the loss of him; and, so that she keened with the fullness of him.

Barry breathed against her neck. “I love you.”

“Fuck Barry. I love you. I _love_ you.” Iris met him thrust for thrust. Felt his fingers graze her hips, as he began fucking her at a brusing pace. “Barry!”

Words were no use in this territory. Only sounds. The wanton breaths they released into one another’s mouths; the kisses they stole; the feeling of Iris kneading her own nipples as Barry slammed into her relentlessly.

The lightning-spark touch of his vibrating fingers finding her clit again, this time with no practiced softness, but with urgency. With the jerky, circling movements of someone who wanted her to come hard around him. Iris cried; felt tears leaking from her eyes as she looked down; as she saw their bodies meeting; as she saw Barry holding onto the glass siding of their patio, as their bodies slapping together hard.

“Come for me,” Barry rasped into her ear. He was bent over now, all suave pretense gone, pounding hard. “Come for me, Iris.”

Iris broke. Felt the starshine, supernova explosion build in her core as he drug his fingers over her clit once--twice-- _again_ , before the dam broke. An explosion of light built behind her eyes as she pushed into his touch; as she undulated and rode out waves of pleasure, her screams drowning out thought and smell and taste; as her fingers stilled over peaked nipples that Barry then drew into his mouth for suckling.

She broke beneath him, and he broke beneath her. He stilled, coming hard with a shout, biting the tender skin below her neck hard enough to redden the skin.

“Holy. Shit.” Iris breathed, clutching him. She glanced over, taking in the dark cityscape around them. 

Barry chuckled breathily. “Well, that was—”

“In-fucking-tense.” 

They giggled together, untangling limbs. She took his hand as he helped her stand; as the two sauntered back into the dark interior of their loft—before lights whizzed on again, and the television sprang back to life, like the power outage hadn’t ever happened. Blessed, cool air conditioning met their clammy skin, as their central system churned back to life.

“Guess we can take a real shower now,” Barry said.

Iris smirked, then wound her fingers between his. “Not before round two.”

To say his eyes were saucer-wide would’ve been an understatement. But how many times did she get to have her husband like this? Iris went and turned off all the lights again; shut off the television; kissed Barry slowly, quietly, still twitching from the aftershocks of her orgasm. Why not make the most of things?

Crime? Team Flash? They could all wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for any errors! I wanted to get this up quickly before my writer's impostor syndrome struck :D. I might also change the title of this later? Couldn't think of anything better in the moment, but we'll see...
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it!


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